Her expression went so soft and sweet. For him. “Aw, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He scowled. “I mean it.”
“So do I,” she whispered. And then she leaned across the big bench seat and kissed him.
He wanted to convince her with his mouth and hands and cock not to go. But he finally released her. “Have a good day,” he managed.
She chuckled. “Thanks, even though it sounds like what you meant is, I sure hope that house burns to the ground.”
He grinned and nodded. “Pretty much.”
She shook her head, and then her expression grew serious. “Keep me posted on Dare and Jagger. I’m really nervous for them.”
“I will,” Maverick said, his gut in all kinds of knots over the fact that his cousin and one of his best friends had been sitting in a fucking jail cell overnight. At least their bail hearing was today. “We’ll get them out on bail and go from there.”
“Yeah,” she said, sliding out of the truck. She turned and leaned back in. “You and me against the world?”
The words came out sounding like a question, and Maverick looked her right in the eye. “You better fucking believe it.”
He watched her walk up the sidewalk through all the brand-new landscaping and disappear inside the big brick colonial. Pulling away and leaving her there was one of the hardest things he’d had to do in a long damn time. Besides Renner and Blake, the only thing that gave Mav any ease of mind was the belief that what Slater wanted more than anything else was to get her back under his control and walking up the aisle to the altar. So she was probably safe for now.
After she left him standing at that altar? All bets were probably off.
“WAITING FUCKING SUCKS,” Phoenix said, expressing all of their views as they cooled their heels at the Ravens’ clubhouse. Walter had thought that Dare and Jagger would have a better chance of a lower bail if the whole club didn’t show up and emphasize the fact that, you know, they were a big fucking motorcycle club. So only Haven, Bunny, and Doc—wearing a suit instead of his colors—had gone.
“Christ, it really does,” Maverick said, dropping his head back against the leather couch. This whole day sucked as far as he was concerned. Between his worry about Alexa being at work, the anticipation of hearing from Walter, and the tension ricocheting around this room, Mav felt like a rubber band pulled tight and ready to snap.
“It’s gonna be fine,” Cora said, sitting on a stool at the bar next to Phoenix. “The hearing will be over any minute and then the guys will be on their way home.”
Murmurs of agreement went around the room.
“That’s right,” Rodeo said, the stress of the situation clearly weighing on the old man—Dare’s great-uncle by marriage. It looked like Rodeo had aged five years since Maverick saw him here the night before. Doc had looked even worse.
Maverick heaved a breath. Crossed his ankles on the table. Got up and went to the bathroom. And still the fucking phone didn’t ring.
“It’s taking too long,” Caine said. He’d been leaning up against one of the pool tables, standing statue still and not saying a word since they’d all gathered.
Fuck. The words struck a chord with the feeling of dread stirring in Mav’s gut.
Sitting on the coffee table by his feet, Maverick’s cell phone finally rang, the ringtone cutting through the thick tension like a knife. He wrenched forward and grabbed it, then held out a hand to quiet everyone as they moved closer. He answered and put the call on speaker. “Mr. Walter, it’s about time.”
“I’m sorry for the delay, Maverick. The hearing just concluded.” Walter’s tone deepened that sense of dread.
“And?” he asked, fearing he already knew the answer.
“I have good news and bad news.”
“Just say what you have to say,” Maverick said, working to restrain the anger welling up inside him.
“Dare’s out on fifty thousand dollars bail, but Jagger was denied bail.”
The room erupted in angry denunciations of the news.
Maverick held up his hands to quiet them again, his pulse a rushing roar in his ears. “He what? Why?”
“It’s clear the district attorney has a stronger case against Jagger because he’s the track manager and Dare’s been laid up because of his injury. And the judge deemed Jagger a flight risk,” Walter said.
“Jesus, this is utter fucking bullshit,” Maverick said, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Jagger wouldn’t run. The guy didn’t have it in him. He wouldn’t abandon his brothers in the club, his duties at the track that he loved, or his younger sister who lived in Baltimore. “How in the world does illegal dumping warrant all this?” Because fifty grand wasn’t chump change. Not that they wouldn’t spend it to free Dare—they’d do that in a heartbeat, and then some. But wasn’t this all a little excessive?
“Each charge, of which there are two, carries a maximum penalty of five years in prison and a $25,000 fine. And it’s clear that the recent shooting at the track played into the judge’s decision,” Walter added. “He was being a real hard-ass.”
Hearing the possible jail time at stake was like getting hit in the gut. With a goddamned baseball bat. “Who’s the judge?” Maverick asked, his instincts waving a red flag.
“His name’s Harold Brennan.”
Mav met Caine’s ice-blue eyes and could almost see the same questions in the other man’s eyes. What was the likelihood they could discover a connection between Brennan and Slater? What were the chances that Brennan was in Slater’s pockets, just like the mayor and Davis? Better than average on both counts, Maverick would bet. Fuck.
They’d sure as shit find out.
Walter passed on a little more information about what would happen from here and they hung up.
Mav rose to his feet and scanned his gaze around the room. Every man’s face was more angered and outraged than the last. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. Caine, you handle getting a private detective on this right fucking now.”
“I’d placed some calls this morning,” he said. “I’ll nail one down right away.”
Nodding, Maverick looked to Phoenix. “Hire out whatever work remains on Creed’s house. I want you taking over the carnival preparations immediately. Jagger didn’t go through all this trouble on the club’s behalf so that everything could fall apart three days beforehand, so we can make sure it goes off without a hitch until we can get him home again. And call in whatever help you need. Nothing is a bigger priority.”
“Consider it done,” Phoenix said, a deep scowl in place of his normally playful, smart-ass expression.
“I can help,” Cora said. Phoenix gave her a nod.
“What about the licensing inspection?” Bear asked. The inspector was set to arrive at two o’clock, and they’d learned he wouldn’t be alone. An inspector from the environmental crimes unit would be joining him. Who’d have ever thought that would be one of their problems? On a sigh, Mav looked at his phone. They had ninety minutes.
“You and I will handle that,” Mav said to the older man. “Given what’s happened, having two executive board members present might help smooth this situation over. And I want another pair of ears there to make sure we’re clear on how to mitigate the environmental damage and begin the cleanup.” Bear nodded.
Jesus, this was the last thing they needed when they were trying to repair their reputation in the community. Fucking Slater. Maverick wanted to wrap his hands around the other man’s throat and watch the life slowly squeeze out of him.
“Rodeo, I want you to set up a perimeter watch . . .” Mav’s words trailed off as the command reminded him of something he hadn’t thought of before. “Fuckin’ A.”
“What is it?” Caine asked, his tone on edge.
“Good news. Maybe.” He met his brother’s intense gaze. “Remember how the Hard Ink team hacked in to the traffic cameras when we were keeping lookout for Haven’s father?” Nods all around. “I wonder if they could go back
through the footage and find anyone coming or going from the area of the drag strip?”
“Fuck, that would be good news,” Phoenix said. “Worth asking.”
“I’ll make the call. The rest of you, get to it,” Maverick said, meeting the gazes of each of his brothers. “And watch your backs. It’s probably Slater, but maybe it’s someone else. Either way, we know for sure that someone’s gunning for us. And we can’t afford another hit.”
TWO LONG, TENSE, busy days later, Maverick found himself at the track with Phoenix and a bunch of other Ravens helping to organize the carnival. The company had arrived this morning to set up the rides, games, and food trucks. The weekend was supposed to be a scorcher, so they’d hired a tent company to put up a couple of big tents to throw shelter over rows of picnic tables, and those were going up, too.
As for their part, the Ravens were setting up cones to direct traffic in the big parking lot, hanging signage, stringing lighting, roping off areas inside the track where the public could meet and take pictures with the drivers, and otherwise answering a thousand phone calls and questions and putting out fires whenever they arose. Trying to take the heat off of Dare, Maverick had been fielding the phone which wouldn’t stop ringing. Only good thing was that being busy made the day fly by. And helped distract him from the fact that Jagger had now been sitting in jail for three days. The injustice of it ate at him like a parasite.
Pausing in the shade under one of the tents, Maverick answered another call. “Maverick, it’s Cynthia.”
Surprised, he leaned back against a table. It had been years since Alexa’s mother had last called him, and then it was usually only to track Tyler down because he wasn’t answering his cell. “Mrs. H? You doing okay?”
“Yeah, hon. I was just wondering what time you all were coming over.”
“Oh, uh.” He swiped at the sweat on his forehead. The work at Creed’s was being completed today so they weren’t wasting any time—they’d planned to move Alexa’s mom and the first load of her belongings tonight. “Alexa gets off around five and then she’ll change and we’ll be over.” Which they’d told her several times this week, but that was a small thing compared to the fact that she hadn’t had any more crying jags since Sunday night.
“Oh. Right. Okay. Just wanted to make sure nothing had changed,” she said.
“No problem, Mrs. H.” Phoenix flagged Mav with a wave and then cut across the grounds to him.
“Sorry to bother you, Maverick. Alexa didn’t answer and I wanted to make sure I was ready when you got here.”
Didn’t answer? Alarm bells threatened to go off, but Maverick also knew Alexa was neck deep in last-minute details today. “You’re no bother,” he said. “We’ll see you soon.” They hung up. “Hey,” he said to Phoenix.
“Thought you could use a drink,” the guy said, handing him an icy bottle of Coke.
“Fuck, yeah. Hot as hell out here today.” Maverick popped the top and took a long pull from the bottle. Cold and fizzy and sweet. Then he gave in to the urge clawing up his spine and texted Alexa. You okay?
His phone buzzed almost immediately. Yes, almost done. Breaking for lunch and then that’ll be a wrap.
See? She’s fine. He shot off a reply. Knock ’em dead, baby. Appeased, Mav slid his phone back into his pocket.
“You did a great job stepping into Jagger’s shoes and putting all of this together, Phoenix. He’ll be grateful. And so am I.”
Phoenix heaved a troubled breath. “I fucking hate that he’s in there.”
“Me too,” Maverick said, the regret he felt a weight on his shoulders that wouldn’t go away. And why should it go away when Jagger was locked up for a crime he didn’t commit? That was a weight.
They sat together for a long time and drank their sodas, both of them clearly lost in their own thoughts. Aside from Jagger sitting in jail, the week was going better than any of them had expected.
Dare was home and no worse for the wear—way more pissed off, but not harmed in any way. The Ravens already had the tires and oil barrels removed from the property, and an environmental firm was treating the small spills that had occurred. A new licensing inspection had been scheduled for tomorrow to review the property after the environmental violations had been addressed. The Hard Ink team had hacked into the traffic camera footage again and was reviewing it, although they said it could take a while. And the P.I. they’d hired had found a social connection between Slater and the judge, confirming their suspicions. Not great news, of course, but at least there was forward fucking motion. Alexa had even managed to finish and submit her schoolwork, and he knew she was feeling good about having that off her plate.
Even better, the illegal dumping story didn’t seem to be hampering the carnival at all. Advance ticket sales were strong, local businesses had signed up in droves to sell their food or other products, and the word was getting out. The charity aspect of the carnival was the real selling factor, and it seemed to be getting more play in the press than the dumping story. Thank God for small favors.
Best of all? Grant Slater hadn’t bothered Alexa at the model home even once.
“All right,” Phoenix said, hopping off of the table. “No rest for the wicked. I’m gonna go find the carnival manager and see where everything stands.”
Maverick nodded. “Grab me if you need me. I’ll be around until about quarter ’til five.” Assuming he could actually sit still for that long when he knew that Slater would be going to the model home today for Alexa’s presentation. That fact had him absolutely itching to ride over there and park his bike on all that brand-new grass. They clasped hands, and then Mav sat for another minute and emptied his drink.
Everything was finally coming together—for the carnival. For Mrs. H’s move. Even for him and Alexa. His thoughts drifted to the other night, making love to her in the moonlight by the pond. How her words had hit him square in the chest and made him want. Her. Them. Everything. More than ever before. They were so close to having her ex behind them that Maverick could taste it. And then he’d be free to lay it all on the line.
So all the news was as good as it could be.
Maverick’s gaze scanned over the colorful rides, the bright food carts, and the festive strings of lights swaying in crisscrosses above the whole grounds. Music played over the track’s sound system, and men talked and laughed as they worked. Everything was normal. Good. Exactly what it should be.
All of which made him wonder why his gut was still so tied up in knots.
CHAPTER 26
Thanks Mike,” Alexa said, hopping out of the prospect’s car in front of the model home. She’d forgotten to pack a lunch this morning, so Mike had run her out to grab a sandwich before the walk-through with Grant, the general contractor, and the sales team. They would all be arriving soon.
“Any time, Alexa,” the newest Raven said. “Call us if you need us. We’re hanging out two minutes away.”
She gave him a nod as he pulled a U-ey in front of the house. Holding her stomach, she frowned. The big rock sitting there at the thought of seeing Grant again said maybe she should’ve skipped lunch, but she wasn’t sure when they were going to fit in eating dinner with moving her mother tonight.
Everything will be fine. You won’t be alone with him.
Right.
On a sigh, she made her way inside. The cool air wrapped around her, helping her stomach just a little, as did the calm, relaxing vibe of the home’s design. The place made her want to sit down and stay awhile. And for the four-hundred-thousand-dollar price tag associated with this particular model, she hoped it made a lot of people feel that way.
She stowed her purse and washed her hands, then grabbed her clipboard from the sales office and made another pass through the house. Grant loved perfection. In fact, maybe it was the only thing he truly loved. And in this one instance, she was determined to give it to him. Everything had to be just right for the walk-through. Maybe then he’d see that she could be valuable to him without becom
ing his wife and just let her go.
She began in the basement, which featured a big rec room, an exercise room, and a media room that looked like a little theater. She checked the finishes, paint job, placement of furniture, and double-checked her punch sheet. Next, she made her way through the living spaces on the main floor. She fixed the plantation shutters on the library windows, making sure all the slats lined up just so because she knew that even one out of place would drive Grant crazy.
Thump.
She froze, her ears going on alert. People were arriving for the walk-through already? She’d thought she had another ten or fifteen minutes. She went to the front door and peered outside, but there weren’t any cars in the driveway.
Damn nerves. They had her jumpy and anxious. Feeling time getting away from her, Alexa rushed up the steps to run through the bedrooms, bathrooms, and upstairs laundry room.
At the far end of the hallway, she pushed through the double doors of the master bedroom—and stopped short.
For a moment, her eyes couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. Rose petals on the bed. Candles flickering on the nightstands and dresser. The low strains of jazz music playing from the built-in stereo system.
What in the world? As it all started to make a crazy, surreal sense to her, she gasped and turned—and ran right into Grant’s chest so hard she dropped the clipboard.
“Alexa,” he said, his voice casual, happy even.
She reeled back, putting distance between them. “What are . . . what the hell are you doing? What is all this?”
“It’s for you,” he said, his body filling the doorway.
“For God’s sake, Grant, the walk-through starts in ten minutes.” Her hands fisted at her sides, hopefully hiding her shakiness.
He shook his head. “I moved it to tomorrow morning.”
“What?” She pulled out her cell phone and checked her email. “I didn’t get any message about rescheduling.”
He grinned. He actually grinned and it was a sickening thing to her. “I wanted to surprise you.”